


dancing in the dark (with you between my arms)

by 18ziam



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: (when it comes to smut), ALL THE OTHERS ARE SIDES, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Bottom Liam, But not really bc Zayn's an emir y'know, Domestic Fluff, Emir Zayn, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Modern Royalty, Nobleman's Son Liam, Original Character(s), Polygamy, Protective Zayn, Shy Liam, Shy Zayn, Slow Burn, Top Zayn, Ziam Ficathon, Ziam is the main Relationship, anygay, oh yeah, zayn has kids from his first mariage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/18ziam/pseuds/18ziam
Summary: Liam and Zayn are poles apart but a marriage brings them together... their own marriage.(or the fic where Zayn doesn't know the difference between justexistingandlivinguntil he falls for Liam.





	1. une

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: possible bad grammar and bad punctuation (wrote this by staying up till 1am two nights)- I was actually about to post this _last night_ but Thank _God_ I didn't; the relationship I had typed in was "When Harry met Sally" and the title was "Don't wan sleep 'cause we're doing out loud"...

\---

**driving at 90 down those country lanes**

“I could shaka laka boom boom with you right now”

Liam huffs gently, failing to hide his amused smile as Harry’s breath tickles the back of his neck as Andy makes comments in the corner that do nothing but make everyone feel awkward. Louis is off trying to convince Sophia to let them sneak away Madeira wine while Jesy and Ed sit across from each other, sketching mandalas and just acting perpetually in-love.  _As usual._

 _This is home –_ this feeling is _home._

Not getting married to some prince whom his father fancies and whom Liam and his friends  _despise._

“Shut up Andrew. You’re a prat”

Andy’s insistent yelling is blocked out as the four of them all turn to the door, cheering wildly as Louis strides in, smirking, 3 bottles of wine caged between his chest and arms. Jesy leaps up to go help him and Andy tuts and mutters about how he would have managed to get more bottles off Sophia with a kiss.

Liam shudders as Harry’s fingers brush over his bare skin – _yes,_ he did like Harry _at one point –_ and he feels something cold settle in his chest. Dread, he thinks.

What if he has to move far away? What if he’ll never see these idiots again for a long, _long_ time?

“What do we drink it in? Liam's _toothbrush mug?_ ” Harry yells, teeth gritted and eyebrows furrowed as he tugs _and tugs_ at the stupid zipper jammed at the back of Liam's suit.

“Say no more!” And everyone’s cheering again as Louis smoothens out his bunched-up shirt and out roll 5 wine glasses, miraculously unharmed.

Liam yelps, horrified when Harry pulls too hard and the zipper snaps off like plastic. Harry however just shrugs his shoulders, remarking about how “showing some skin never did any harm” before flouncing off to claim his own glass.

“Harry?! The fuck?!”

Jesy shoots Liam a sympathetic look, and honestly, _what would they do without her?_

_What would any of them do without any of them?_

Ed has taken up the position of pouring out wine for everyone, considering Louis has no coordination and the rest of them are all “just prats”. Except Jesy, who he pulls close and kisses on the forehead and addresses as the “most beautiful person in the room”, smile soft and fond on his face.

Of course, Harry has to go interrupt the moment by spilling red wine down his crisp chiffon blouse-shirt and yelling for everyone to shut the fuck up.

Liam turns around, watches them with teary eyes and a tight smile for what could be the last time in – _months? Years?_

His mates – each as stupid as the other. Liam has known Louis and Andy since they were in _diapers._ He has known Jesy since fourth grade and Ed since seventh and Harry; it’s hard to believe they met just 3 years ago but it seems like _forever._

It seems like _too long ago_ since he’s shared so many “ _firsts”_ with these people _._ The nostalgia is terrifying. 

Liam’s train of thought is interrupted by Louis threatening to pour wine over Andy who still won’t shut the fuck up and the loud knock against his bedroom door.

The timing is almost comical – Harry shoots up and strips off his shirt, choosing to walk around half-naked so the wine stays a secret; Louis almost _does_ pour one fucking bottle over Andy before hurriedly stashing it in one of Liam’s “endless, boring cupboards”; Ed and Jesy carry away all the half-filled wine glasses and Liam himself-

Liam himself does nothing. Just laughs.

_God, these people. How he’ll miss them._

\---

“You look beautiful babe”

Liam’s smile is shy and subdued as Jesy – dear old Jesy – kisses his forehead and shoots him a mock two-fingered salute that would look pretentious on anyone else but her. Ed steps in between the two of them, grins as he wraps an arm around both of their shoulders,

“She’s right. You look like a fucking stud”

Liam grins, feels a flush rise up his cheeks when Louis compares his smile to the “sun coming up again”

“Shut your Shakespeare ass” Jesy jokes, laughing as she ducks under Ed’s arms to avoid Louis lunging for her, nails out. 

"As if _Louis Tomlinson_  knows who  _Shakespeare_ is" Sophia remarks, joining them out of nowhere with a smile on her face and a fond twinkle in her hazel blue eyes as Louis huffs and whines about "no one being on his side"

“Oi oi Payno, wanna fuck in your ensuite?”

Harry does the necessary and smacks Andy on the back of the head for yet another of his crude remarks, while the rest of them just giggle.

“He’s gonna be a  _prince –_ you uncivilised pig” Harry sniffs, looking heavily unimpressed, “The  _husband of Emir Zain Malik_ makes _love –_ the old "Payno" used to fuck in his ensuite _”_

“No difference mate. Shut your banana hole”

The 6 of them laugh together again, and Liam feels the knot in his chest loosening as he spends more time with the ones he loves before he has to leave. To go live with some Middle Eastern prince that he knows _nothing_ about.

\---

 _God hope this Emir isn't some ugly old guy,_ Liam wishes to himself as his Father pulls him away from his friends to go and "introduce" him to his future husband. 

Ah yes. That's how it works in arranged marriages. He meets the guy he's supposed to marry on the actual  _day_ of his marriage. 

Huh. 

And then they're standing in front of each other, and all Liam's worries are gone.

"Namaste" the Emir hums, expression shy _and smug_ as he extends a hand to Liam. 

 _Daddy,_ is all Liam wants to say. 

___ 

 

“Emir Zain Malik”

The Emir ( _Em-eer,_ Liam tests it out before deciding he’s never gonna try again and just hopes he never has to say the word and make a fool of himself) nods at the priest, and Liam himself glances at his friends, all of whom look equal parts supportive and proud.

“Liam James Payne”

Louis – fucking _Lewis –_ snorts when the priest pronounces his middle name wrong ( _no but really – who is “Jamies”)_ and everyone turns to glare at the little pack of them, annoyed enough by these reckless kids with tattoos and clothes _utterly unsuitable_ for weddings.

Liam nods at the priest, and sneaks a glance at Zain, who looks unamused and bored and – _so so done._ Like he’s done this a million times before; which he probably has, considering Emirs and royal families generally believe in and practise polygamy and polyamory.

_Ugh._

The priest picks up a ladle and pours some semi liquid oily substance into his palm before flicking it into the fire burning in the middle of the dias they are all sat on.

“Ab hum yeh vivah ka shuruvaad karenge [Now we will start this marriage ceremony]” he chants, and Liam sighs, sneaking another glance at his bored fiancé.

_Is this the right thing to do?_

\---

It’s been _ages,_ and Liam is honestly considering dozing off and falling into the fire. He can understand why Zain was so _eager(!)_ for this ceremony.

He stifles a yawn behind a heavily jewelled hand (gold rings here, gold rings there, some random bracelet – just _why_ ) as the priest picks up two golden chains and hands one to the each of them, still persistently chanting in another language.

Muffled by his long beard, the priest tells the Emir to put the chain on Liam – even goes as far to look annoyed when Zain looks at him like he’s speaking another language (which he is).

Someone chuckles near the front, and sure enough, Liam rolls his eyes when he finds Ed pouting over the remnants of a laddoo he probably crushed in his hands while Jesy laughs at him for just being stupid.

“Ab inhe yeh mangalsutra pehnao swaha [Now make him wear this chain]” the priest instructs Zain, while Liam makes no move to obey it, still watching the way Jesy grabs Ed’s finger and licks it in a sexual way anyone else would have been embarrassed about, but her.

The guests watch the couple, confused as Zain’s gaze flickers awkwardly between Ed and Jesy and Liam, as Liam himself laughs _while_ he’s getting married  and at the priest, who looks the most confused of them all.

_What is going on?_

\---

“Abhi khade ho jao [Now stand up]” the priest chants, watching as the pair of them push themselves off the dias, legs jelly.

Liam almost falls because p _ins and needles_ , but his _future_ (actually no, not even that) _husband_ does nothing to help, just looks straight ahead like a strictly trained proud and majestic racehorse.

“Kya Emir saab ke maa baap saamne aayenge? [Will the Emir’s parents come forward?]”

Everyone in the room watches as the crowd parts like the Red Sea for Moses, but for the beloved Raja and Rani.

The pair of them walk up to the dias, and smile almost in sync at Liam who is alarmed by how beautiful they are. 

 _No wonder their son is so handsome_.

There’s not enough time to gawk at them, Liam realises when the priest’s (frankly, _annoying_ ) voice cuts through the moment, addressing the Emir’s parents.

“Ab Emir Saab ka dupatta inke dupatte ke saath baandhiye [Tie the Emir’s scarf with his]” 

Liam’s face feels hot as the Raja instructs him to step closer to the Emir, until his back meets Zain’s chest and he can feel Zain’s khussas [tasselled shoes] at the back of his ankles.

The knot is tied and Liam almost laughs at the person who sniffs rather dramatically in the middle of the crowd, when suddenly Zain’s parents step away and everyone looks up at Liam like _he’s_ meant to be doing something.

Alarm bells ring in his head, and he looks back at Zain who is virtually half-asleep, and then at his friends who are furiously trying to interpret to him what he’s meant to do.

“Walk around the fire!” Harry hisses just as Andy elbows him away and tells Liam to “throw himself into the fire”

Liam huffs, and risks listening to Harry as he takes a step forward, feet feeling weird as they make bare contact with the flower petals littered over the dias.

He goes around the fire 7 times, Zain _literally_ attached to him by the knot in their scarves, before the priest stops them and smiles at Liam for what could be the fire time in at least 2 hours.

“Ab kya Liam ke maa baap saamne aayenge? [Now will Liam’s parents come forward?]”

Liam blushes hotly as Zain grabs his arm and gently moves him out of the way so he can step forward and lead the pair of them, attached by the red scarves – _dupattas,_ the priest calls it.

Karen and Geoff Payne are already at the front, Karen teary-eyed with happiness while Liam’s dad just shoots him a grin as he steps up to tie their two dupattas together.

Then it’s Zain’s turn to lead them, and Liam can’t lie – it feels kinda nice. It’s almost symbolic ( _and that’s probably what it means_ ) of how they will maintain harmony whilst leading and taking care of each other in the future.

At least, that’s his interpretation of it.

The rest of the ceremony goes smoothly.

\---

Finally, the time comes for them to leave.

Liam watches with wet eyes as his suitcase(s) are brought out and Jesy beside him chokes on her tears, while Ed and Harry both rub her back soothingly.

Liam watches numbly as all his mates pull him into individual hugs, all whispering little nothings to him. He hates how _every single one of them_ , even Louis who is always a fucking heartless douchebag, and Andy who knows no emotion but his sex drive.

“ _Go get ‘im Payno – don’t forget us while you’re at it!”_

_“Go make some Ziam babies. Gonna miss you babe”_

_“I snuck a teddy bear into your luggage, don’t throw it away because it sings Firework. I love you”_

_“I’d say I love you but you love him – anygay, have a great time. Skype me every day”_

_“I- um- uh- I’m just gonna miss you buddy come here!”_

Everyone around them coos as Louis, the strongest of them all, rushes forward and grabs Liam into a deathgrip hug, his weirdly small fingers running through Liam’s hair absently.

What they don’t see is Louis pinching his nipple afterwards.

“ _Liam”_

The brunet smiles wetly, turning around just in time to see his parents walk up to him, looking _so so proud_ and _so so happy; overjoyed._

It warms Liam’s heart. To think that – so many people care about him.

His dad wraps an arm around his shoulder just as his mum buries her face into his shoulder, wetting the rich kaftaan silk of his clothes. Not that Liam minds, of course. 

“I’m gonna miss you” Liam breathes out, voice so soft, so vulnerable as his mum tightens her grip around his arm.

She doesn’t say anything – just sniffs and looks up to her son with so much love; so much pride in her eyes that Liam feels completely overwhelmed.

“Leave her be” Geoff speaks up, and no one brings up how his voice cracks; or how his eyes are redder than they usually are.

The three of them just... _be_ for a few moments. Like old times – like when they were kids, and Roo and Nic were still home. Back when –

Liam doesn’t remember. He just knows it was a really good time.

And he hopes the coming years will be too.

\---

The moment the engine starts up, Liam is breaking his back twisting around in his seat to wave out through the back window, sad smile on his face.

His stony-faced fian – husband. Husband says nothing. Just observes, golden eyes curious like a cat. They’re kind of soothing, really; that plethora of ambers and goldens has Liam’s heart slowing down and his sadness dissipating.

Liam sighs as all his friends; family; loved ones; _all the people he’s known_ since _forever_ disappear into the distance. Decides this _may not be so bad_ when his husband looks to him for the first time that evening, a shy smile on his pink, _pink_ lips.

\---

 


	2. deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn is more than a little cold, and Liam has doubts about this... arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one whole year late. i'm very disappointed and feel free to shame me in the comments below! x

**let the lights guide your way, yea. take every memory as you go**

“Where are we off to?” Liam pipes up, tongue heavy from having not talked for so long. His hands are in his lap, fingers wringing together nervously. He doesn’t know _what_ or _how_ to address this man; a _literal prince._

He’s relieved to see his new husband understands English; at least he supposes he does. The Emir turns away from his window and offers a questioning look to Liam, who’d be happy to get punched by this man if it meant he just _looked_ at him once.

“Were you not briefed earlier?” Zain replies, expression mostly blank and unchanged. Liam’s heart sinks at the sight – he had hoped that the man’s shy smile earlier was some indication of _wanting_ to get to know Liam – his new spouse.

“No, uh, I don’t think –“

“We will be residing at a hotel in your _quaint little town_ for the next week or so” Zain interrupts, feline eyes flickering under the faint radiance of passing streetlights, “Then we shall board a flight to my birthplace, where we will occupy a new palace, built especially by one of the kingdom’s specialist architects, Mohammed Kafur Sahib”

“Pardon me” Liam asks, flushing under the intensity of Zain’s gaze, “Where is your birthplace exactly?”

The Emir seems surprised at Liam’s utter lack of knowledge about him. Unafraid of sounding conceited, he points out to Liam that his father’s vast empire and flourishing kingdom are things of magnificence and are renown across the world. He also doesn’t hesitate to call his latest husband out on his ignorance, and isn’t perturbed by the younger man’s sudden frown and fiery cheeks.

“Abu Dhabi” he explains, eyes softening (at least to an embarassed Liam) at the memory of his home country, “I suppose you should also know that I am the prince, _Emir,_ first in line to the throne and my father is currently the king, _Raja_ ”

Liam nods, he knew that much before he decided (was coerced, more like) into marrying this man.

“I have three younger sisters, two of whom are married and one of whom is away in the States, studying to be a lawyer. What else would you like to know about me?”

Liam notes that Zain doesn’t seem to harbour any interest in himself at all. _You’re just a son of a rich man after all,_ a voice in his head reminds him horridly, _you’re of no interest to a man with such power._

“Have you been married before?” Liam speaks up, looking down to his hands unsurely; he isn’t really sure of what questions he’s permitted to ask a man of such stature.

“Yes” Zain replies, without a second’s pause, “My first wife, who you may consider your older sister, is the mother to two of my sons and the _Raajkumari_ of the kingdom. You will bask in her light, as the courtiers and subjects adore her and you will undoubtedly find it difficult to compete with her popularity”

Ignoring the slight jab to his social abilities, Liam worries his lip between his teeth and wonders whether it’s appropriate to continue talking – will the Emir always dominate the conversation? Is he even allowed to speak to his husband of his own accord? So many questions, so many rules and regulations; _ARGH._

“What are your son’s names?” Liam decides to ask, secretly hoping to earn at least a few brownie points with this closed book of a man; he’s always loved children, and children typically love him back.  ‘ _A woman who’s good with his children, that’s all a man wants’_ Ed had once said with a loving glance in Jesy and her giggling niece’s direction. Louis of course had a lot to add to that list: ‘ _Also a good ass, must be able to make Yorkshire pudding, must be able to celebrate Rovers’ wins, etc etc’_

“Rehaan and Samrat” Zain says, after a moment. If Liam expected him to say anything else, to perhaps tell him about his children or profess his love for them as most people do – he was wrong. So far, all he’s gathered about his husband is that he’s a matter-of-fact, blunt kinda guy who won’t make an effort with conversation. _Brilliant._

“Do you want to know anything about me?” Liam risks asking, blinking in the virtual darkness as Zain stares at him, judges him in an inscrutable manner.

“Why did you accept this proposal?” Zain asks, jaw tightening in the faint glow emanating from more passing street lights. _This is not what Liam meant by questions._

“I... well, I. I don’t know, really” _Great job Liam, the clarity of your answers is unbelievable,_ “My father was very impressed with you and your family, I think, and I guess mum agreed with him. Plus, I’ve had so many failed relationships that we figured arranged marriage was the only way to continue the family line through me”

Liam peers over the driver’s seat, trying to deduce their whereabouts in an attempt to let this conversation die, but Zain doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Forgive me for prying” He hums, and when Liam turns back to face him, those piercing hazel eyes are still boring holes through his face, “Surely a man like you would not struggle with relationships. I mean, you are decent appearance-wise, and your conversational skills are not nearly as bad as they could be, so why the string of failed romances?”

It’s off-putting, the way he attempts to compliment Liam. It reeks of insincerity and thoughtlessness, and for the first time Liam really begins to doubt this alliance. He shifts uncomfortably in this seat, wishing he could rip off these unnecessarily fancy clothes and switch them for his pyjamas – somewhat old and ragged, a fading imprint of the Deathly Hallows on the shirt.

“I only figured out my sexuality two years ago – I had only dated women up until then” Liam replies curtly and he thinks it’s a much better alternative to his planned reply: _‘it’s none of your business if you can’t talk to me properly’_. He ends the conversation once and for all by turning back to his window and gazing out at the city-lights glowing in the distance.

Fortunately, Zain gets the hint this time round and does not bother to pursue interrogation on Liam’s life choices any further. When Liam next sneaks a glance at him, he’s on his phone, texting someone with an almost-smile on his pink, pink lips.

_Stop it, Liam._

___

“Hey”

Someone shakes his arm rather aggressively, and the dull ache makes Liam jolt in his seat.

“I’m not sleeping” he proclaims, eyes fluttering open dazedly to Zain leaning over him, expression unreadable and eyebrows raised, obscured almost by his Aladdin-esque bangs.

“Of course not” Zain replies indulging him, and before Liam can dwell on the almost fond edge to his otherwise posh voice, his car door is opened and held back by a rotund man in an ill-fitting general’s jacket.

He stares at the man for a second, befuddled when he’s offered a warm smile, and Zain takes pity on him and nudges him out of the vehicle.

He steps out of into the night air, yawning into the back of his hand as his now-husband gets out behind him and encircles his waist with a skinny yet strong arm.

The gesture sends blood rushing up Liam’s cheeks, and he hopes the Emir doesn’t notice his sudden shyness.

Someone shuts the car door behind them, and now he’s being guided up wide steps which open out into a minimally decorated yet classy hotel reception. Despite being a ‘Northerner’ through and through, Liam doesn’t recognise his surroundings or this hotel in particular. He’s however relieved that Wolverhampton didn’t let him down and provided a residence fit for a finicky prince like Zain. Liam is also relieved to see a sign indicating a pub and a bar. _Thank the Lord_

“Ah. Misters Payne and Malik – welcome to Ely House Hotel! We are so glad that you chose our hotel to spend your honeymoon in, and we hope to make these few days as special as possible for you!  We have arranged for you to share the most top-notch room in the hotel” With this, he hands a simple maroon and gold key card to the Emir and a duplicate to Liam, “And we have left a complimentary honeymoon hamper for you in your room. We hope you will take full advantage of it, of course. We also have a wide range of facilities available for you to access, including the free Wi-Fi, bar, swimming pool, spa, gym, conference rooms, badminton courts and some others which you will find listed in our hotel brochures” With this, the man indicates a shelf behind them, housing an array of colourful pamphlets and brochures, “If you have any queries or concerns, please contact me personally by dialling 021 on the room intercom. Enjoy your stay, otherwise, and here is a bottle of champagne for you to pop tonight as celebration!”

Liam accepts the bottle of bubbly with a gracious smile, while Zain surveys their surroundings, his expression inscrutable and somewhat mean, not that Liam expected any less from the Emir _of course_.

“Do you have a spice plantation nearby?” Zain asks, turning his attention on to the smartly dressed hotel manager who valiantly disguises his confusion with a pleasant smile.

“A _spice plantation,_ sir?” He repeats, a hint of confusion making its way into his voice, “I’m afraid not. Wolverhampton and the Midlands have never been prevalent for spices or plantations – I apologise”

“Huh” is all the Emir says in response to that, before he turns away and marches to the elevator with his nose in the air, detaching his arm from Liam’s waist and leaving the brunet craving more than just the slight warmth of his arm.

Dumbfounded, Liam stares after him and briefly wonders how he will ever survive a lifetime with a snob like Zain, let alone his wife who will probably have some resentment towards him and his two kids who Liam knows absolutely _nada_ about.

The manager still must be slightly traumatised from his encounter with the Emir, because he nervously smiles at Liam and wishes him a pleasant stay again before almost comically scurrying to hide away in the comfort of his own office.

___

“A _spice plantation?_ ” Liam yelps the second he sets foot in the room, “What were you thinking, expecting a spice plantation of all things in the middle of rainy old England – ”

He’s cut off by the lavish room that lies in front of him. A quick glance around his surroundings reveals a satin and rose-petal covered bed (wide enough that he could probably sleep on one end of the bed and still leave enough space for all his friends to fit in between Zain and himself), one wall replaced entirely by floor-to-ceiling windows that open out onto the city view (a series of white, grey and amber dots speckling an otherwise dark night sky), a Jacuzzi bubbling away softly in one corner of the massive room and a fully stocked credenza; wine, champagne, rum, liquor, vodka, beer and all these other alcoholic beverages of various strengths.

It’s a bit too romantically set up for a pair of strangers who were introduced to each other on the day of their wedding. The thought of getting it on with Zain tonight is pleasing to Liam’s irrational dick, but completely foreign to his rational heart and mind.

Setting the complimentary bottle of bubbly on the credenza, Liam strolls into the room, shutting the door behind him as he absorbs the atmosphere (why the sudden urge to talk so poetically, Liam doesn’t know) of their honeymoon suite.

As promised, there’s a big basket on the bed which immediately catches Liam’s eye. Curious, he wanders over to the hamper and picks up a small card with a congratulations message written in tilting calligraphy. Next he parts the copious volumes of frills and tulle aside, to reveal an almost overflowing basket of roses, champagne in icy water, floating candles and glitter, bars of milk and dark chocolate and most embarrassingly – _condoms._

Flushing bright red at the sight of those, Liam vows to keep his distance from the basket and instead wanders over to the window and peers out into the night. Somewhere amongst these buildings, far far _far_ away is his home, and are his friends who are probably drunk silly already with the excuse of celebrating their Lima bean’s marriage. The thought makes Liam nostalgic, so he quickly turns away from the window and ends up in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next.

 _I need the loo,_ he thinks to himself and with little difficulty finds the bathroom. Upon entering, his first thought is “this is a ridiculously fucking big bathroom” and his second thought or rather _sight_ is the bathtub for two; filled to the brim with water, ridiculously cliché rose petals floating serenely over the still ripples and vanilla scented candles lighting the wall on one side (they’re dangerously close to the water, Liam thinks to himself yet again questioning the logic of hotels and what they think about things couples do on their honeymoons).

Ignoring the clear “when will you get down to fucking” vibe of the bathroom, Liam extinguishes those ridiculous candles before risking a glance at himself in the dimly lit mirror (again, _inconvenient_ not _romantic_ ).

His hair is not too bad, but the dark circles under his eyes and the general tired look of his face makes him wanna crawl under the covers of those comfy-looking satin sheets and stay there for the remainder of their hotel stay. No wonder Zain asked him why he complied with this arranged marriage, because no fucking way did an _Emir_ agree to marry someone who looked like their expiry date was long overdue.

Shaking his head, Liam bends slightly and rinses his face with cold water, sighing at his reflection when there’s no visible change to his tired appearance.

“You’re useless” he mutters, raising his bushy eyebrows at himself before turning away to exit the bathroom. The sound of not-so-soft singing and water stops him from doing so, and he whips around to face yet another translucent glass door.

For some reason, he doesn’t _think_ and instead throws open the door and steps inside, clothes and all, right into a cloud of steam and the scent of Mongolia or whatever those flowers were in one of Jesy’s countless fragrances, courtesy of an-ever-ready-to-spoil-my-girlfriend-Ed.

The embarrassment is _devastating,_ when the fog parts slightly to reveal a blank-faced Zain staring at him over his shoulder, clearly asking him what the fuck compelled him to step into a shower which he was clearly using.

“I” Liam says eloquently, licking his dry lips as he resists the urge to glance downwards, “I uh, I erm... well...”

“Yes? You uh uh uh _what?_ ”

The annoyance in Zain’s tone stings a little, and Liam gulps, flushing deeply from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes before turning around and darting out of the shower and back into the safety (not so safety) of the hotel room.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Now he’s gotta spend a few fucking _days_ with this man who probably thinks he’s a pervert; son of a rich nobleman, yes, but also a fucking pervert.

___

“I’m sorry” Liam says at the same time as Zain says, “I think we should get different rooms”

Dumbstruck, Liam frantically glances at Zain, before looking away again at the sight of a crispy white towel strung low on his narrow hips, a collection of pretty black tattoos across his olive skin and shower mussed hair plastered across his forehead.

“Okay” Zain mutters, and a gentle thump against the carpet signals he’s dropped the towel which only triggers Liam’s memory of Mongolia and steam and naked skin, “Maybe not different rooms, but we must sort out bathroom rules and the sort, you agree?”

Liam nods down at his lap, not daring to look up for a good while till Zain gets his clothes on. He wrings his fingers in his lap again, yet another bad habit he’s picked up from Louis, and worries his lower lip between his teeth, courtesy of Harry this time. Who knew his friends had become such big influences in his life.  

He feels eyes on his face a few seconds later, and his skin burns red as he looks up to meet Zain’s steely gaze. And shirtless torso, _for fuck’s sake!_

“No entering the bathroom when one of us is in the shower, yes?”

“Or pissing” Liam adds, wincing at his own crude language. _At least talk like a civilian when you’re talking to a fucking prince._

However Zain doesn’t seem to mind, only smirks while his eyes remain cold and dark, “Or while one of us is pissing, as you so eloquently put it”

“Cool” Liam hums, ignoring the man’s jab at his articulation yet again, “Also, what do we do about the bed?”

He definitely does not watch as Zain bends over his suitcase and retrieves a loose black tank top which he slips over his lithe body. Absolutely does not watch.

“What about the bed?” Zain shrugs, sneaking a glance at the furniture, “We can throw the petals away and I have heard satin sheets are actually pretty comfortable –“

“ _No”_ Liam sighs, waving his arm blindly in the direction of the bed, “Should I sleep on the loveseat or...?”

“You have an issue with sharing the bed” Zain suggests, his tone even icier than before. _Wow, Liam’s  on a roll with fucking up today!_

“Well, no I mean, I don’t have a problem but I thought you would – “

“That’s settled then. We’re sharing the bed” Zain says in a tone so firm it could almost be an order.

Liam looks away again, fiddling with the exquisite wedding band around his ring finger as Zain joins him on the bed and pulls the hamper into his lap.

He watches for his husband’s reaction, smiling when his nose wrinkles in disdain and the hamper is pushed off to the side of the bed once again.

“Let us stay away from _that_ , do you not agree?” the Emir sniffs, taking one look at the offending basket before turning to Liam with a grimace.

That’s his second proper look at Liam all evening, or something like that.

“Let’s” Liam agrees, smiling despite himself at the hazel-eyed man in front of him.

___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i logged into ao3 for the first time in ao-ages and i realised this fic was left behind. so i decided i'll finish this fic (it will definitely take some time lads, i rlly hope you guys don't expect rapid-fire updates bc i've got exams and i'm pretty darn talented when it comes to the art of procrastination). life has changed since the good-ish ole days of 2017, and i'm now in sixth form and it is NOT a breeze!  
> feel free to attack me in the comments as i said before, and i'd really appreciate feedback as my writing style has changed since 2017 (i think?) and i wanna know what you guys think about it! also, good luck to everyone who's struggling through exams and revision and cyclic moods of 'i can do this' and 'how the fuck did i even get so far in life'. lots of love & hugs, nia :)


	3. trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few confessions and explanations leave Liam feeling less confused, and somewhat sadder.

**yeah, you better go to see her when i'm feeling like i'm drunk without a need**

___

“What do you think compels hoteliers to give couples free chocolate, candles, petals and condoms? Do people have some sort of special honeymoon ritual: eat chocolate off each others’ bodies and take turns lighting each others’ hair on fire, chewing petals like cows and doing the condom challenge because I’m sure no one can physically use fifteen condoms over a honeymoon for their intended purposes – “

A nudge to his foot from Zain cuts Liam off mid-rant. The man’s messy hair pokes up from behind the mound of blankets, eyes cool and guarded unlike the warmth radiating from his body next to Liam’s.

“You don’t need to make conversation with me” Zain mumbles, blankets clenched in his fists, “Neither of us really want to be in this position, I understand”

And before Liam can even reply to that, the shock of thick black hair disappears under the blankets and one final “Goodnight” sounds in the room before the bedside lamp is switched off by the Emir.

Since Liam wasn’t too keen on the initial “share a bed” arrangement (or that’s how Zain put it), the couple decided to share the bed but sleep with their heads at opposite ends. After a match of rock-paper-scissors which Liam took very seriously and Zain merely rolled his eyes at, the younger man was unfortunately resigned to sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet nestled in the space next to Zain’s head.

“What’s your wife like?” Liam finds himself asking despite Zain’s clear lack of interest in _stirring_ conversation. _Does he want to know about his husband’s other spouse?_ No. But Zain’s wife is one of the only topics over which they can have a (one-sided) conversation lasting more than a minute.

He’s met with silence, and for a second he thinks Zain’s pointedly ignoring him, but then he hears the man taking a deep breath as if preparing to rant about his _lovely wife._ The fond edge to his sleepy voice makes Liam’s heart clench out of jealousy more than anything.

“Her name is Noura – her and I attended the same university a good few years ago, and I was lucky enough to make her fall in love with a plebeian like me” he laughs, a warm rumble, if honey had a sound.

“The Raja was not convinced she was the best match for the ruler in succession of one of the most prosperous economies in the East, and we had to go to great lengths to convince both our families that we were really ideal for each other”

It’s pretty evident to him as the Emir continues talking that making a space for himself in Zain’s heart will be very difficult, if not virtually impossible.

“ – Luckily the people love her, because she symbolises change and acceptance; a symbol of modernity in our old, ‘ _orthodox’_ world. And I love her too, just as I do our sons”

“Great” Liam bites out into the silent darkness, not really attempting to conceal his inexplicable bitterness, “She sounds absolutely wonderful” What he wants to say is more along the lines of _‘why did you marry me if you’re head over heels for some other woman’_ but his niceness prevents him from doing so.

 “She really is amazing” Zain echoes, shifting the blankets around himself as he turns on his side, “Which is why I was not too keen on this, _our_ alliance initially. Frankly, I still am not and I am truly sorry about that. My heart is with my wife – you may be a good man, and I am sure you are, but... I hope you understand that I can’t fall in love with someone else? Not that I’ve finally succeeded in creating my fairytale love story with my wife?”

Ignoring the way dread settles in the pit of his stomach like a slab of iron, Liam chooses not to reply in lieu of picking at the blankets and watching Zain’s toes. They’re long and weirdly slender, like his fingers. _Not that Liam was looking at his fingers._

“Are you in another relationship as well?” Zain asks after a while, almost kicking Liam in the face as he turns on to his other side so he can peer down at his new husband from the headboard.

“No” Liam replies almost immediately, still shocked at the ease with which his new _husband_ asks him that.

“We don’t practise polygamy, so I can only be married to you right now” the brunet finds himself explaining after a few seconds in silence. His answer makes him seem like he would definitely date someone else sometime in the near future. Yeah, that’s a good answer – give Zain a taste of his own medicine; tell him how little he really matters to you.

Oh _who is he kidding._ Zayn probably wouldn’t care if Liam went and had five illegitimate children, as long as he got to live with his _beloved wife._

 “I haven’t really dated another guy since I finally figured out my sexuality – pity, all the men I liked who liked me back were taken by then”

Zain hums thoughtfully, his feet shifting under the covers yet again – _damn this guy’s fidgety._ “Have you liked anyone though, since then?” his foot nudges Liam’s neck, and the ease with which sparks shoot up his skin is almost embarrassing, “I am sure you have had at least a few crushes since then – there are plenty of fish in the sea”

The absurdity of the Emir’s words makes Liam laugh because of all people, Zain would probably be the last person Liam would expect to have a midnight discussion on crushes with. It’s like middle school all over again – staying up in bed, whispering dangerously secret _(!)_ confessions to each other.

“What?” Zain responds, confused and there’s an edge to his voice – _glee_ perhaps and Liam’s glad he’s beginning to open up a bit, “Did I say something funny?”

Liam shakes his head even though the man probably can’t see him, and stares up at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face, “Don’t worry about it. And uh to answer your question, I have had crushes obviously, but I’ve either been too scared to act on them. I don’t really wanna ruin any friendships”

He thinks about Harry; his wide green eyes that glimmered like leaves caught in the rain or what Liam imagines the Northern Lights look like. His long clumsy limbs and his dimpled smile; his banter with the rest of them and his terrible jokes; his obsession with anything vaguely aesthetically pleasing (Liam was blessed in that way, his jawline and the delicate smears of stubble across his cheeks and chin beautiful enough for Harry’s artistic eye); his love for his friends and family; his stupid tattoos and his equally stupid dislike for most of them; his absolutely ludicrous (both appearance and price-wise) choice in attire, _he could go on and on about Harry Styles._

“You should try approaching them anyway” Zain advises, bringing Liam back to the reality of being stuck in a honeymoon suite with a married guy who will _alas_ probably never love him in a non-platonic way (even platonic seems a stretch at this point), “You never know where things may go from there. I cannot really counsel you in that area, Noura fell for me hard enough that I never had to bother asking her – she invited me on our first date, did you know?”

“Of course” Liam grins, tickling the underside of his husband’s foot in a kinda-spur of the moment decision, laughing as he squirms and yelps and twists the covers away from Liam, “ _Lies._ You probably begged for her to try going out with you, good looks or not”

“She got to her knees for me on our first date! I could have been an absolute dick to her, slammed the door in her face instead of holding it open and pull her chair out from underneath her when she sat down and she would still have wanted me in her bed later!” Zain proclaims, yelping yet again as Liam’s blunt nails skate over his feet again now that he knows Zain’s ticklish, “Would that happen if I was not this handsome – would you stop that! _Stop!_ ”

Their playfighting escalates into a full scale tickle war, and it ends up in Zain rolling off the bed and landing on top of the honeymoon hamper. Liam can’t stop laughing when he gets up to reveal wet patches all over the back of his sweatpants from those floating candles. He’s lucky the candles were extinguished or Liam would probably be the last person to see him alive and well.  

“Why would you leave this fucking hamper here?” Zain yelps, though there’s no real snark to his tone. He grimaces at the sudden wetness of his bum and to Liam there’s nothing funnier than watching a to-be Prince pout like a five year old about falling into a honeymoon hamper filled with water.  

“Just looks like we had a kinky honeymoon night” he giggles, sitting up in bed as he watches Zain dust off his sweatpants in vain – _it’s water for goodness’ sakes,_ as if it’d come out that way.

The Emir freezes at the reminder that it’s their honeymoon, and he schools his voice immediately to its initial indifference. A cool mask of indifference settles over his features, and Liam’s disappointed and pissed at himself for killing the moment.

“I shall contact reception for laundry bags” Zain announces, avoiding Liam’s gaze as he steps over the mess on the carpet and attempts to find the intercom in the darkness, “You sleep. Night”

The brunet watches him fumble and bumble around the room, still managing to look graceful as he trips over a lamp and manages to switch the light on. Moments later, Liam hears the loud closing of the room door, guessing it’s unbecoming of a Prince to storm around the place and slam doors.

 _Some night_ , Liam thinks, inwardly sighing. How long can they keep ignoring the elephant in the room – they’re _married_ for the love of everything good! Liam knows he’s a side thing, an accessory as long as Noura is in the picture, but he’d like Zain to at least _acknowledge_ their relationship, not just avoid the topic of their bloody marriage entirely.

He briefly wonders if any of his friends will be up at this hour, but figures they’re all probably drunk off their arses and lying around in one big heap in Louis’ bedroom – Jesy and Ed touching absolutely everywhere even in their sleep, sunk into an old bean bag that Louis’ claimed to have wanked on multiple instances; Sophia on the floor, her arms draped over the bedside as she snores into the mattress, her usual elegance and etiquette long gone, probably at risk of a nip slip; Andy splayed out across the bed like the hog he is, probably naked as the day he was born or in his boxers if he’s feeling particularly benevolent; Harry probably in the closet (haha), slumped against the inside walls, snoring loud enough that no one accidentally forgets him in there; Louis on the floor, empty cans of beer lined up next to him, drool all over his carpet, lines on his cheek from the bumps in the carpet.

The wave of loneliness that suddenly washes over him isn’t funny. He misses his friends all of a sudden, enough that his eyes dangerously start to well up. He wonders if they missed him, if they’d wake up and think – _hey. No water and aspirin on the bedside, has Liam left already_ before realisation hit them.

Suddenly he doesn’t care for how hot Zain is; what being married, what being loved is like; how lovely Abu Dhabhi must be round this time of year; how cute Zain’s sons must be; how long it will be before Zain decides he loves Liam or wants a divorce. _Liam for one_ wants out of this alliance – Zain probably wouldn’t care anyway, it wasn’t as if they were friends either.

___

“Morning, um, I got us tea...?”

“Liam” the brunet clarifies drowsily, guessing the Emir’s already forgotten the only thing he knew about the man to begin with.

Opening his eyes reveals Zain, fresh out of the shower, who has the decency to blush and look somewhat embarrassed about his slip up.

“I apologise. I am terrible with new names” the man says, and it’s only then that Liam realises he’s kneeling beside his bedside, two cups of piping hot tea in his hands. Another bleary glance reveals his husband’s shirtless torso, littered with countless tattoos and elaborate inks that Liam would love to know the meanings of. Half of them are probably inspired by _his wife_ in some way.

The tea smells nice, he reminds himself in an attempt to distract his wandering eyes from Zain’s unexpectedly toned upper body. It wasn’t surprising as such, but his clothing does a good job of concealing his toned figure and the soft-looking muscles of his abs. The brunet’s mouth dries at the thought, and the wave of arousal that washes over him is surreal – he hopes it’s just his morning wood that’s making him think these thoughts because lusting over a man who will never even think of him like that _won’t do._

He tries to sit up, only for Zain to rest a hand on his back and help him up. It’s stupidly domestic in a weird sort of manner that sends Liam’s easy heart fluttering faster than before. But the gesture’s also inexplicably hot, enough so to send blood southwards. The warmth of Zain’s hand spreads across his cool, exposed skin and does absolutely nothing for the goosebumps that were already there.

“Thank you” He mutters, accepting the steaming cup from tattooed hands while shifting under the covers in an attempt to disguise his morning wood, now more awake than before. Any warmth that dissipates through his chest (and groin) at Zain’s rare half-smile is merely coincidental _of course._

“I did not know how you would prefer your tea, so I made it the same as mine – black with a dash of lemon. I usually add a few drops of honey as well, but they have not provided that – I can always get you milk if you need some. The hotel have overestimated how much milk we would need, unsurprisingly”

Liam takes a tentative sip of his now lukewarm tea, decides he doesn’t mind it and rolls his eyes at the Emir’s revelation; “Well they hopelessly overestimated how many condoms and candles we’d need, so I guess that’s just their way of doing things”

Zain chuckles at that, says nothing else as he brings the cup to his lips and swallows down some more tea, leaving his lips seemingly more pink and fuller than before.  

“Listen, um Liam” The brunet nods, signalling for the other man to continue as he sips his tea, “I... I apologise for storming off last night. I do not really want to be in a _relationship_ with anyone but Noura, but we can um _,_ maybe have a stab at being civil to each other for the duration of our marriage”

Liam nods in agreement, debating his next words before his mouth does the work for him, “For the duration of our marriage? We’re gonna get divorced?”

“Yes” the Emir states, expression blank as he looks down into his cup, “Eventually. Once we fulfil the requirements of our marriage”

If Liam knew arranged marriages could be so twisted and loveless; so matter-of-fact about divorce and contracts as if this whole situation is a _bloody company project_ not his _life,_ he would never have agreed to this. Did his parents know about this?

“What requirements?” he manages, looking Zain in the eyes, enjoying the feeling of power it gives him as Zain shies from his gaze.

“We have a child together. Adoption, of course, though I have been informed that you may be positive for the male pregnancy gene. Either way, it will be artificial insemination or adoption – no intimate contact between us”

 _A child? Artificial insemination –_ wait, he’ll have to be a father to children of a man who doesn’t love him?! That’s so unbelievably unfair to him, let alone his future kid.

“That’s bullshit” Liam hisses, suddenly angry at this big mess he’s been thrown into – _what the fuck kinda contract is this?!_

“I know” Zain sighs, chuckling with no mirth, “But we have to be married for at least five years, and going five years without a child will rouse suspicion in the kingdom. About my virility, about our marriage, about the throne – people can be _ruthless_ about these things. You will get dragged by the media like a stray dog on a leash”

“Why can’t they know it’s an arranged marriage?”

Zain answers patiently, and Liam feels grateful although this is the least of what this man owes him. He could walk out on Zain any second, and the royal reputation would instantly be tarnished. The stakes are high.

“We have had some bleak times recently. War and economic decline have left people feeling bereft – we as the royals are symbols of hope and prosperity to them. Our unity is the beginning of a new chapter for them, and they will want to think of it as a fairytale romance with rainbows and sunshine – not a contract on paper between two strangers and their families. Why did you think we had such an elaborate ceremony if we could just as well have signed some papers at a registrar’s office? Did you see the number of cameras and reporters around us”

 _Makes sense I guess,_ Liam realises and suddenly he sees Zain in a new light. Just a man being resigned to doing what a bunch of strangers want for him – being manipulated like a puppet on string, like entertainment for his kingdom.

 “And the kid?” Liam adds, his fingers curling tighter around his cup. Surely it can’t be fair to drag a kid into this mess – to subject them to watching their parents getting divorced and all.

“Just cements the whole thing really” Zain shrugs, eyelashes fanning across his high cheekbones as he swirls the tea in his cup, long gone cold, “We wouldn’t have needed the child if the news about Noura hadn’t been leaked to the press”

His jaw clenches at the memory of something, and he abruptly stops fidgeting with the cup. He’s a sight for sore eyes, undoubtedly, even as he sits cross-legged on the bed in a pair of simple sweatpants, some of his hair plastered to his forehead from a morning shower.

Clearing his throat when he’s sure Zain won’t continue, Liam hesitates “What news about Noura?”

Zain looks up, honey-coloured eyes wide and a shade of ethereal golden-brown under this light. Like a painting almost, like countless portraits that were made on a whim. If Liam had any skill at painting, he thinks he’d paint Zain first and foremost.

“She can’t have kids” Zain replies, voice carefully controlled and eyes wide and imploring. And Liam realises that Zain’s heartbreak in a picture. Heartbreak, and a breaker of hearts. Liam takes a sip of his tea and grimaces - _it's fucking gone cold_

___

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished 3 exams so far and I have 2 tomorrow and 1 the day after, but I decided that updating this fic would be the sweetest form of procrastination! Let's hope both Liam and I recover from the blows we've faced in the past few days! PS does anyone know who and when this trend of chapter names in different languages started? Like it just hit me the other day that the chapter names are in French and not English? -n :) xx

**Author's Note:**

> more chapters soon! show me some love with a kudos or a comment (or both if you had a good day (: ) xx - n


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